


Where the Love Light Gleams

by andabatae



Category: Star Wars, Star Wars - All Media Types, Star Wars Sequel Trilogy
Genre: A Reylo Hallmark Story, All aboard the Ben Solo pain train, Alternate Universe - Modern Setting, Angst, Ben Solo Dressed as Santa Claus, Canonical Character Death, Christmas, F/M, Falling In Love, Grief/Mourning, Healing, Holiday Angst, Holidays, Hot Mess Ben Solo, Loneliness, Mental Breakdown, Mental Health Issues, Santa Costume, kindergarten teacher rey, sad but sweet, soft
Language: English
Status: In-Progress
Published: 2019-12-05
Updated: 2020-02-06
Packaged: 2021-02-26 03:15:51
Rating: Mature
Warnings: Creator Chose Not To Use Archive Warnings
Chapters: 3
Words: 9,621
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/21676633
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/andabatae/pseuds/andabatae
Summary: After the death of his father, Ben Solo returns home for Christmas for the first time in five years. Together, he and his formerly-estranged mother navigate the tumultuous waters of grief while hosting Santa's Workshop for their small town.Ben is cynical about playing Santa... until he meets Rey Jackson, a lonely kindergarten teacher who has no family to celebrate with. As these two wounded souls connect, Ben discovers there's still magic in the holiday season.
Relationships: Kylo Ren/Rey, Rey/Ben Solo, Rey/Ben Solo | Kylo Ren
Comments: 52
Kudos: 244





	1. Chapter 1

Ben stood outside his childhood home, suitcase in hand. He was frozen, both literally and metaphorically, unable to go in despite the fact that he’d been standing in the bitter cold for more than twenty minutes. White flakes drifted down from the leaden sky, settling into tiny heaps on the shoulders of his black wool overcoat.

The house looked picture-perfect, as it always had—two stories, with white walls, blue trim, and a gabled roof. Warm light spilled from the windows, gilding the gathering snow, and the Christmas tree glittered and shone from its place of pride in front of the living room’s picture window. Smoke curled up from the chimney. Inside, he knew it would smell like pine, woodsmoke, and Christmas cookies.

Christmas was practically a religion for his mother, although Ben had never understood why. It had always seemed like a way to cover up their problems, like by stringing tinsel on the tree and hanging a wreath on the door, the Organa-Solos could become a normal family for a few short weeks.

His father, Han, hadn’t understood, either, although he’d gone along with Leia’s plans with only a bit of good-natured grumping. “Why do we need ten separate nutcrackers?” he’d asked, toeing one of the more hideous ones with the tip of his boot. “One is already too many.” Or, when Leia had forced hot cocoa and cookies and fudge down their throats: “Are you trying to fatten us up so you can cook us for Christmas dinner?”

Ben’s heart ached at the thought of his father. This year there would be no holiday snark, no bickering over how many sets of Christmas china were too many (“You’re the mayor of a town with two thousand residents,” Han had said, “not the fucking Queen of England”), no laughter or fights or wine-blurred reminiscing.

This year it would just be Leia and Ben, and Ben already knew he wasn’t up to the task of making the holiday special for anyone.

The door cracked open, letting a sliver of light out. It lanced across the snow, stopping short of Ben’s boots as if pointing at him.

“Ben?” Leia’s incredulous voice was loud in the muffled silence of the wintry late afternoon. Then she was running across the yard towards him, red bathrobe flapping and a huge smile wreathing her face. She held out her arms as if she meant to embrace him, but when Ben flinched, she stopped short and let her arms fall to her sides. Her smile only faltered for a second before she was launching into one of her trademark speeches.

“You nearly gave me a heart attack, standing out there in the snow like some sort of mugger, all dressed in black and backlit by the streetlamps. Silly boy, why didn’t you just come inside? I have hot cocoa on the stove, and, oh my goodness, you must be absolutely freezing.” She patted his arm, daring that little touch, and Ben let her gently tug him towards the house. “I didn’t even know you were getting out today,” she said, “or I would have come to pick you up. Why didn’t you call me? You probably spent so much money on a taxi out of the city, and you’re soaked through—”

“Mom.” He cut her monologue short, not wanting to talk about where he’d been just yet. “I’m fine. You’re the one wearing slippers in the snow.” He frowned down at her raggedy elf slippers, the same pair she’d been wearing for as long as he could remember. “Why haven’t you thrown those out yet? They have holes in them.”

She waved off the concern. “No, no, I could never. My best friend Amilyn gave these to me when we were in college together. You remember Amilyn, she used to babysit you. Speaking of which, she has a new boy toy, and—”

Ben let the speech wash over him as they entered the house. Of course he remembered Amilyn, but that never stopped Leia from providing unnecessary context every time she told a story about someone. He was relieved when she toed off the soaked slippers and stepped into a different pair that had been sitting by the door.

“You got my gift,” he said, smiling a little at the sight of the fluffy brown slippers. He’d mailed them to her last Christmas, knowing how cold she got during the winters.

“I did, and I love them, although I still wish you could have given them to me yourself—”

“Mom. Not now.”

Leia’s eyes widened. “Oh, of course. I’m sorry, Ben. Some habits are hard to break.”

He put a hand on her shoulder. God, she felt frail. Had she always been this small, or had she gradually diminished over the years he’d been mostly absent? “It’s okay. Want to show me your decorations?”

Leia guided him through the house, proudly displaying every new knickknack and ornament she’d acquired since the last time he’d come to Christmas five years ago. When she plucked a hand-carved wooden airplane off the tree, her face sank into lines of grief. “This was Han’s last gift to me. He wanted to be here during the holidays, one way or another.”

They looked at the tiny airplane together for long, silent minutes. Ben felt the suffocating weight of the past press down on him, a reminder of just how much he’d missed. How much he’d _failed_.

He hadn’t even been able to visit his dad in the hospital during the last days of his life, too busy falling apart. Too busy burning his old life down. His father would probably have liked to see that, but he’d never gotten the chance.

As if sensing the direction of Ben’s thoughts, Leia rested a hand on his forearm. “He knew,” she said softly. “We talked about it the last day he was lucid. He knew you’d left Snoke, knew you were getting some help, and it made him so happy.”

Ben’s vision flooded with tears. The tree blurred, hazy coronas blossoming around the pinpricks of Christmas lights. “I can’t,” he said, backing away from the tree. His throat constricted, choking his voice into a whisper. “I can’t talk about that yet.”

“Then we won’t talk about it.” Leia hung the airplane back on the tree. “Want some cocoa?”

Five years ago, she would have pursued that avenue of conversation long past the point of comfort, which would have resulted in Ben shouting or Leia throwing up her hands in frustration and storming away. Maybe Ben wasn’t the only one who’d changed during their estrangement. 

They drank cocoa at the kitchen island. As a child, climbing onto this stool had felt like summiting a mountain, but now Ben’s shoes touched the floor, the same way Han’s once had. Leia’s legs still dangled, and Ben’s lips quirked as he remembered how Han had always made fun of her for it. Leia would always retort that Han was an overgrown child whose growth spurt had clearly hit his legs, not his brain.

When he was younger, Ben had wondered why they rehashed the same stupid arguments over and over again, but he thought he understood now. It was like wearing the same pair of slippers year after year. There was comfort in the familiar, even if those arguments, like the slippers, had grown more and more ragged with time.

There had been a time when he’d wanted nothing more than to be fully grown, as tall as his father. Sitting on this stool, though, he wished he could take it all back. Erase the intervening years with a swipe of his hand. Return to the moment when he’d been wide-eyed and young, feet kicking under the stool while he listened to his parents bicker over cocoa.

His mother kept up a stream of gossip, sharing details about everyone in the small community of Alderaan. As the town’s former mayor, she knew everyone and everything, and she delighted in sharing every detail, from the sweet to the salacious. Amilyn Holdo, as discussed earlier, had moved some hot young thing named Poe Dameron into her pool house. Jessika Pava and Kaydel Co Konnix had finally gotten engaged after years of playing coy. A young couple, Finn Storm and Rose Tico, had moved to town and purchased the old diner, turning it into a sci-fi-themed arcade. Leia was active in the local schools, and she’d taken a local kindergarten teacher, Rey Jackson, under her wing this year. She was now thinking about buying a dog so she could train it for therapy visits at the local children’s hospital.

Ben let the details wash over him, taking comfort in the flow of words. Some things would never change, Leia’s loquaciousness being one of them. In a way, it was reassuring to hear so many familiar names. He may have broken ties with the community in rather dramatic fashion, but life in Alderaan had gone on, anyway, its rhythms and dramas as constant as the tide.

“And,” Leia announced triumphantly, “I’m going to host Santa’s Workshop in the front yard again.”

 _That_ broke through Ben’s reverie. “What?”

His mother grinned as she sipped her cocoa. “It’s been, what, fifteen years since we did it? I think it’ll be fun.”

“No,” Ben said flatly. Santa’s Workshop was a tradition his mother had started when she’d been voted in as mayor. Every year during the week leading up to Christmas, she’d created a miniature winter wonderland in their front yard, complete with food vendors, an elaborate lights display, and a real-life Santa Claus. Santa Claus being Han, of course, forcibly conscripted into wearing the suit and beard despite his vehement protests. Ben still remembered his father’s smile as the children had lined up to sit in his lap and whisper wishes to him, though, and he suspected Han had liked the role far better than he’d let on.

The community had loved the whole thing, but as a surly teenager, Ben hadn’t enjoyed having hundreds of strangers tromping around his yard and peeping in the windows, eager for a look at the lives of “Alderaan’s First Family.” As if the Organa-Solos were important people in an important place, rather than a messy, dysfunctional bunch of overly-dramatic people who just happened to be very visible in this bumfuck town.

He couldn’t imagine handling that chaos now, not after the year he’d had. Families arguing, babies screaming, messy, obnoxious children tromping around the garden…

“Come on,” Leia said. “I think it’s the perfect way to celebrate the holiday season. We can spread our Christmas cheer to people who need it.”

“What Christmas cheer?” Ben asked sarcastically. “The part where you cry over Han every night or the part where I’m a useless wreck of a human?”

Leia flinched, and Ben immediately regretted his words. He wrestled down his anger and breathed deeply, trying to remember what his therapist had taught him about taking time to reflect before reacting. “I’m sorry,” he said quietly. “It’s just… the season is hard enough. Do you really want to make it harder by adding a ton of logistics?”

Leia sighed and set her mug down on the marble with a clink. “That’s actually _why_ I want to do it.” Her expression was serious and frank—her “talking to adults” face, he thought grimly. Apparently all it had taken was him blowing up his life and all his relationships for her to finally see him as a man. “I need something to distract me,” she continued. “Not having Han here… it’s hard.” Her eyes grew watery. “He was my rock, even though he pissed me off damn near every day. And without him… what am I doing all this decorating for? What am I celebrating? It feels self-indulgent, like I’m trying to recapture something that’s long gone.”

Ben sighed. “I understand.” And he did. Sometimes he felt like his entire life had been spent trying to recapture a feeling he wasn’t sure had ever been real.

“It’s not that I don’t like baking and decorating for you,” Leia said, laying a hand on his arm. “That brings me joy, too. Having you here… it means more than you can ever know.” He opened his mouth, but she squeezed his forearm and shook her head. “I know you don’t want to talk about everything that happened yet. The point is, we’re both a little lost right now.”

He huffed. “I won’t argue with that.”

“And Santa’s Workshop may be a pain to organize, and it may disrupt our lives, but at least it’s something. A way to wrest some happiness out of the season, or hell, even just something to wear me out so I don’t stay up crying all night long.”

Regret pinched his heart again. “I really am sorry about saying that. I’m trying to be better about thinking before I speak, but…” He grimaced. “It’s hard.”

She chuckled a little and released his arm to wipe away a tear that had spilled over. “I’m not surprised, considering your genes. Lord knows Han and I never think before we speak.”

The slip into present tense sent a painful jolt through Ben. It was stupid; he knew his father was dead, had known for three months now, but hearing his mom talk about Han like he might walk in the door at any moment was a jarring reminder of how much they had lost.

“And you’re right,” Leia said. “I have been crying. I don’t know if I’ll ever stop crying, to be honest with you. It’s like there’s this hole in my chest and I’m walking around with only half a heart, and it’s beyond awful, but I’m not even sure I want it to stop. If it stops, does that mean I’m forgetting him?” She shook her head. “I don’t know what’s right or what to do. But the one thing I do know is how to throw a proper Christmas party. So let’s do that.”

Her brown eyes were pleading, and Ben couldn’t have said no, not after she’d shared her pain with him so honestly. Knowing Leia, she probably hoped it would inspire him to bare his own soul in turn, but there would be time for that later. “All right,” he said, covering her hand with his. “We’ll make Santa’s Workshop together.”


	2. Chapter 2

Ben grimaced as he stared at the outfit laid out on his bed: green shorts and a shirt with gold buttons and red trim, topped with a pointy green elf cap. The shorts were _very_ short.

He grabbed the hat and carried it into his mother’s bedroom, where she was currently laying out an array of shining fabrics and boxes full of ornaments. “I am _not_ wearing this,” he said, shaking the cap at her. The bell at the tip jangled at the harsh movement.

She squinted at the cap in his hand, then laughed. “Oh, that’s not for you. That’s for Amilyn’s boy toy. She’s bringing him over for a fitting later.”

“Huh.” Ben chewed his lips. “I guess that explains the shorts.”

“I ran out of room in here,” Leia said, gesturing at the heaps of festive decorations. “I hope you don’t mind if I use your bedroom for extra storage.”

He shook his head. How could he mind? It wasn’t even really his bedroom, anyway. He hadn’t slept in it with any regularity since leaving for college, as evidenced by the fact that it was still decorated with signs of Ben’s embarrassing adolescence: posters of metal bands, calligraphed emo poetry, and a few action figures. The twin bed barely fit his shoulders and definitely didn’t fit his legs.

It was typical that Leia hadn’t repurposed the room in the decade that had passed since Ben had last lived under her roof. She was always holding on to some notion of an idealized past. It was what had made her run for mayor so successful, but it had always left Ben feeling like he could never measure up to her impossible standards.

“You could have thrown out the action figures,” he said, despite knowing he should just leave it be and let his aging mother have her nostalgia. He’d only spent one night here, and he was already itching under the weight of an old life and old expectations. “And the posters,” he added. “Especially the posters.”

She made a face. “Well, I did get rid of that supermodel you taped to the ceiling. I know boys will be boys, but that oil she was doused in made her look like a greased pig, and I kept thinking about all the chafing from the sand—”

“I don’t want to talk about that one,” Ben interrupted, cheeks heating.

“I don’t see why not,” Leia said, pulling a length of gold tinsel from one of the boxes. “It’s perfectly natural for boys to have fantasies, and Lord knows I found enough crusty socks to know what you got up to in there—”

“Mom!” Ben might as well be sixteen years old again, mortified by his mother’s unwelcome and unnecessary commentary about his ‘journey into manhood.’ The tips of his ears burned. “Are you trying to embarrass me?”

She frowned as she looked at Ben. The gold tinsel joined other shiny lengths that were draped around her neck. “There’s no need to be embarrassed. You were always such a sensitive child—”

“I’m not a child anymore,” he said, voice rising. God, why was it always like this? He’d thought they were getting along better after last night, but in the harsh light of day, their personalities grated the same way they always had. “And shoving me back into that box won’t make the last decade go away. Neither will hanging on to stupid action figures.”

She looked like she’d been slapped. Unable to face her recriminations or the guilt rising in his chest, Ben turned and stormed away. Maybe there was some manual labor he could do outside until his temper settled.

As he hammered together planks to create one of the holiday booths that would line the sidewalk, breath puffing in the chill air, Ben reflected on the tangle of their lives. It was like a knotted heap of yarn, fragments of past and present snarled together until it was impossible to draw the individual threads apart. He would always be that angry child, and his mother would always be a meddling, embarrassing busybody, and Han…

Well. Han wouldn’t be anything anymore.

Ben set the hammer down and wrapped his arms around his bent legs, burying his head in his knees. Christ, he was such a fuckup. One day under his mother’s roof and he was shouting at her. Han would have been ashamed of him.

He heard the front door open, and he braced himself for a lecture. The soft _shush-shush_ of Leia’s slippers over frosty grass grew louder, and then she was standing beside him. Her hand came down to rest on his shoulder. “I’m sorry,” she said softly.

He turned and wrapped his arms around her legs, hugging her close as he burrowed his face into her side. “No, I’m sorry. I’m such a little shit. I fuck everything up, and you deserve better than a son like me.”

“Oh, hush.” She stroked his hair, her small fingers raking through the black waves in a soothing pattern he remembered from childhood. “I’m lucky to have a son like you. I am,” she insisted when he scoffed. “And you’re right, you’re not a kid anymore. I’ll throw the action figures out.”

That made him feel worse. “No, don’t,” he said, looking up at her pleadingly. “Don’t let me ruin things or make you feel bad about your own damn house.”

Her smile tipped up on one side—an expression she must have picked up from Han over the years, because it was like seeing an echo of him in her face. “How about this? You take a look at the action figures and decide if there are any you don’t want, and we can donate them to a local charity for Christmas.”

Some of the tension in his chest eased. “Yeah, I’d like that.”

It would be a chance to let his past be someone else’s future. And, to be honest, a chance to set aside some of the toys that really had meant something to him, whether for future generations—unlikely as that might be, considering Ben’s garbage personality—or just for nostalgia’s sake.

Leia settled down onto the grass beside him, ignoring his protest that it was too cold and the frost would seep into her bathrobe. “About your bedroom,” she said. “It was a way of keeping you here during your years away. I know you don’t want to talk about that, but still. That was all I had of you.” Her smile was a softer expression than Ben deserved. “But you’re back now, so why do I need that room to stay a time capsule? We can decorate it however you want.”

His eyes blurred, and his chest was tight with emotions too complex to name. “You know I won’t stay here forever, right?” he asked. This was temporary—she had to know that someday he would move out again and start a new life.

“I know.” She looked at him with a fond sort of sadness. “But why don’t you let an old lady pretend for a while, hm?”

Ben breathed deeply, as if oxygen could dispel the complex ache that had taken up residence in his chest. “All right.” He hesitantly put an arm around his mother, tipping his head to rest his cheek on her braided hair. It was the same crown braid she’d worn countless times, although now it was shot through with gray. “You’re not that old, you know.”

She chuckled. “Flattery will get you everywhere. Now, want to help me pick the right decor for the hot cocoa booth?”

“Sure.” Ben stood, then helped his mother to her feet, and they walked back inside together.

#

By late afternoon, the booths were mostly constructed, and some were already draped with glittering garlands or festooned with lights. The entire neighborhood had been by, it seemed, providing an unending and repetitive stream of commentary. Everyone was _so excited_ about Santa’s Workshop and _so surprised_ that Ben had come back—the prodigal son returns, haha, very funny joke—and _so sorry_ about Han. Everyone had homemade cookies to offer or children to volunteer as holiday elves for the Workshop.

The only thing Ben appreciated was the periodic delivery of hot spiked cider from the old woman across the street. Maz Kanata was eccentric, but at least she recognized that alcohol made most social situations better, and Ben had a nice buzz going by the time the sun nudged the horizon.

A beat-up gold Nissan Sentra, easily twenty years old, sputtered up to the curb. It no doubt held another neighborhood busybody, come to catch a glimpse of the prodigal son and nudge Leia for details about her emotional state. Whoever was driving probably had another tin of fudge or a fucking fruitcake to add to the pile in the kitchen, too.

But the person who popped out from the driver’s side of the car was absolutely not what Ben was expecting. He’d seen more gray-haired grannies and exhausted-looking parents of small children than he could count, but never someone this young and… _bright_ , for lack of a better word. She moved with quick confidence towards where Leia was stapling tinsel to the bake sale booth, her long legs encased in ripped jeans that highlighted a breathtaking ass. Her hair was drawn up in three buns, and her tan sweater had the lumpy, malformed look of a beginner’s first attempt at knitting.

“Rey!” Leia rushed out from behind the booth and wrapped the girl in a hug. “What are you doing here?”

 _Rey_ —Ben replayed his mental tapes, trying to figure out when Leia had mentioned her name—laughed. “The entire town is buzzing about Santa’s Workshop. I came to see if you need help.”

Her voice was melodious, her accent British, and her grin revealed cute dimples. Ben was at risk of a heart attack. When was the last time he’d seen a girl this pretty? Had he ever?

Leia must have noticed Ben staring, because the next thing he knew, his mother was marching towards him with a triumphant grin on her face, dragging Rey behind her. “This is my son, Ben,” Leia said, gesturing at him like Vanna White presenting a prize package. “Ben, this is Rey Jackson. You remember, the kindergarten teacher I mentioned?”

“Oh. Yes.” He reached out to shake her hand and realized too late that he was still holding a hammer. He fumbled the tool in an attempt to transfer it to his left hand, then dropped it on his toes. “Mother _fucker,_ ” he howled, hopping on one foot as pain sang through him.

Rey gasped. “Are you okay?”

Leia waved a dismissive hand. “He’ll be fine.”

Ben shot his mother a venomous glare. “Thanks, Mom. _Shit_ , that hurts.” He attempted a weak smile for Rey the gorgeous kindergarten teacher, and— _wait_ , oh God, she was a _kindergarten teacher_. “I’m so sorry about the swearing,” he said, wondering if he could have possibly made a worse impression.

To his surprise, Rey tipped her head back and laughed. “Oh, trust me, that’s not a concern. I’ve met your mother, after all.”

“Oh, please.” Leia swatted Rey playfully on the arm. “I don’t swear that much. Han had the potty mouth in the family.”

The mention of Han stung, but to Ben’s relief, Rey wasn’t weird about it—no awkwardness, no earnest expressions of condolences. “A family can have more than one potty mouth,” Rey pointed out. “And I heard you cussing out that lady who cut you off in traffic on the way to the children’s hospital just last week.” She winked at Ben, which caused another concerning heart palpitation.

Once he was finally capable of standing on both feet again, he stuck out his hand. “Let’s try that again. I’m Ben."

“Rey.” She dimpled up at him, and Ben felt nearly monstrous as his own hand swallowed hers up. Her skin was soft, her fingers delicate. This was exactly the sort of pretty, sweet girl who ought to have nothing to do with him, but he found it difficult to drop her fingers. 

“So,” Rey said, turning to Leia, “I stopped by because I want to see if my students can visit Santa’s Workshop one of these days.”

Leia’s face lit up. “Of course! We’re adding a Hanukkah booth, too, if that’s a concern.”

“That’s very considerate of you. I’ll make sure the parents know, and attendance won’t be mandatory, anyway—I just thought it would be nice to get the kids out of the classroom.”

They worked out the details while Ben half-listened, most of his attention focused on studying Rey. Her face was dusted with freckles, which were delightfully visible, since she wore no makeup. She smiled easily, but there were dark circles under her eyes that spoke of exhaustion, and with her ripped jeans, lumpy sweater and worn boots, she looked like someone who was struggling monetarily. He didn’t know what kind of salary a kindergarten teacher in Alderaan got, but he’d bet it wasn’t much.

Ben hadn’t known many people who were struggling during his time in New York City. He’d surrounded himself with Snoke’s cronies: rich, powerful men who only had to snap their fingers to get whatever they wanted. Once upon a time, Ben had wanted to be just like them. He’d gotten close, too, at least on the surface: a multi-thousand-dollar watch on his wrist, a closet full of expensive suits, and all the top shelf liquor and drugs he’d wanted. Women had flung themselves at him, and while he hadn’t indulged his carnal appetites the way most of the men at the firm had, he’d done enough to feel ashamed about it now. He’d even been given a stupid boys’ club name— _Kylo Ren_ —and a yearly bonus that could have bought several struggling families housing.

For years, he’d told himself that was as good as life got. He’d made it. He’d left his old town and his old family and his old failings behind. Gradually, the rot in his soul had spread until there was almost nothing of Ben Solo left.

That rot was out now, excised in the most painful way possible, but he still felt hollow inside. Like something had been lost during those years of excess that could never be reclaimed.

“—you would be wonderful at it, and Ben’s going to be participating, and I really think the two of you would get along—”

He snapped back to attention at the mention of his name. “What are we talking about?” he asked, instantly suspicious of his mother’s motivations.

Leia rolled her eyes. “You haven’t been listening, have you? I was just telling Rey here that she would make a wonderful Santa’s elf—”

“No, thank you,” Rey said. Her tone was polite, but her smile had faded into an odd expression that struck Ben as almost bitter. “I don’t really do the whole holiday thing.”

She might as well have told Leia she hated kittens. Leia’s eyes widened in horror. “You don’t do holidays? But you’re bringing the kids…”

“For them,” Rey said. “Not for me.” Her expression softened, and she pressed a hand to Leia’s arm. “Thank you for thinking of me, truly. I’m sure Santa’s Workshop is going to be wonderful, and I look forward to seeing it as a guest.”

Leia’s forehead was creased with what Ben knew was real distress. She’d never understood why other people might be uncomfortable with her brand of performative festivity. “But if you would just try on the costume—”

“She said no,” Ben interjected. “Let it be, Mom.”

Rey shot him a grateful glance, and he smiled back, letting her know she had an ally on the inside. His mother could be a lot, but at least Ben could run interference. If Leia was still talking to him after the shitshow of the last five years—a miracle, if you asked Ben—he wouldn’t run her off by taking the side of a reluctant elf.

Then he remembered something. “Wait,” he said, dread creeping over his skin. “What did you mean I’m participating?”

Leia tweaked his ear, which nearly sent Ben into a rant about how he wasn’t eight years old anymore and hadn’t liked having his ears touched even when he _had_ been eight years old. He bit back the words, both for his mother’s sake and because he didn’t want Rey to see this side of him yet. Of course, he’d rather she didn’t see the ears, either, but who was he kidding? A girl like that wouldn’t give a shit about him, whether or not he had big ears.

“Silly boy,” Leia said, tugging his ear again. “You’re going to play Santa, obviously.”

The bottom dropped out of Ben’s stomach, and even with Rey present, there was no way he could keep his cool in the face of that piece of absurdity. “Absolutely fucking not,” he said.

“What do you mean?” Leia shifted her feet further apart and planted her hands on her hips—her battle stance. “We need a Santa, and you’re the obvious choice.”

“Santa is an old man. I’m not.”

“That’s what fake beards are for.”

Panic was rising in Ben’s breast at the thought of having to _play Santa_ , of all the fucking things. He was a disaster, a mess, a nightmare of a human being who had spent most of his adult years living the worst life possible. Who the fuck was he to tell children everything would be okay and they could have whatever their naive little hearts desired?

Santa was a stupid concept that ultimately taught children that adults were liars and magic wasn’t real, but he still remembered those heady moments of excitement, lying awake in his bed and listening for the tip-tap of reindeer hooves on the roof. Lie or not, Santa had _meant_ something to him as a child.

Ben wasn’t equipped to create meaning for anyone.

“No,” he said flatly.

Rey flinched at his tone, but Leia leaned in, as she always did, getting caught up in the argument. “You’re just shy,” she said. “You’ve always hated being in public. But no one will even know it’s you, and if they do they won’t care, and you’ll make Christmas special for so many kids—”

“I don’t want to make Christmas special for a bunch of stupid kids,” he shouted, losing his temper fully. “I don’t want to play a part in your optimistic, bullshit little story.”

“Hey,” Rey said, interjecting in her sweet, lilting voice that Ben could have told her wouldn’t do a thing. Nothing could stop a Solo-Organa showdown once it started. And _fuck_ , he’d just called kids ‘stupid’ in front of a fucking kindergarten teacher, _Christ_ , could he be any worse—

“Han did it every year,” Leia said, refusing to budge.

The words felt like a slap. Ben actually staggered back. And just like that, the rein on his emotions broke. “I’m not Han!” he shouted, mortifying tears springing to his eyes. “I’m fucking nothing like Han, and I’m never going to be. And you’re just going to have to get over that disappointment and find a different fucking Santa.”

“I’m… I’m going to go,” Rey said, backing towards her car.

Ben’s chest hurt like his ribs had been banded in iron and his heart was covered in spikes. Rey _should_ run from him and the messiness he brought to his family. He was a failure, a disaster, a terrible man. He took beautiful things and broke them.

People like Rey— _any_ people, really—deserved better than him. His mother did, too.

He sobbed, the sound loud in the silence that had fallen after his outburst. Even the muffled roar of Rey’s engine sputtering to life couldn’t drown out the pathetic, ugly noises spilling from him. He was crying like a child, with his whole chest, and it was beyond humiliating, but he couldn’t stop. He was never good enough—he would never be good enough…

His mother ought to be screaming at him, but she was quiet. To Ben’s shock, she opened her arms. “Come on,” she said in that voice that had grown gravelly over the years. “You’re a fucking mess, and so am I.”

How many times did he need to beat this woman down emotionally before she rejected him for good? Ben was weak, though, and he craved that embrace as much as he resented it. He fell into her arms, folding his frame over her as he made himself as small as possible. After all these years, he was still a child when it came to his mother.

“I’m sorry,” he said into her hair. Two apologies in one day, because he apparently couldn’t act like a decent human being for more than a few hours at a time. “Sorry I’m such a fuckup, sorry that I didn’t even go a day without shouting at you— _twice_ —sorry for all of it.”

Leia stroked his hair with one hand and his upper back with the other. “You’re not a fuckup,” she said. “Or at least, if you’re a fuckup, I’m a fuckup, too. That’s what a family is, right? The people who love you even when you’re a fuckup.”

He hugged her tighter. “Yeah, but I fuck up _a lot_.”

“Not any more than me.” She sighed. “This is one of those moments my therapist would tell me is a learning experience. I hate that term, but she’s always right about it. She told me I pushed you too much, that I didn’t let you have space to say no or have opinions I didn’t like.”

They were both quiet for a moment, processing that. “Well, yeah,” Ben finally said, unable to think of a way to sugarcoat it.

To his relief, Leia chuckled. “Trust me, you are not the only one with that opinion. Han says…” She cleared her throat, and when she spoke again, her voice was thick. “Han said I was a general in need of a military campaign.”

Ben finally pulled away to swipe at his tears. “You would crush your enemies,” he said. Another olive branch, the words offered clumsily but earnestly. His therapist had had a lot to say about Ben’s conflict resolution techniques, too.

He was trying. With mixed results, and often after the fact, rather than in the moment, but at least it was something.

Leia’s shoulders slumped as she sighed. “The awful part is, I still want you to be Santa. And I know I shouldn’t, and I’ve been trying to work on the whole ‘letting things go’ concept, but it’s stupid and I’m bad at it.”

Ben chuckled, relating to his mother in this, at least. “I’ve also been trying stupid things I’m bad at lately. Apparently that constitutes ‘growth.’”

“It isn’t that I expect you to be like Han,” Leia said. She shook her head, smiling wryly. “Please don’t be like Han, in fact—that man was rubbish half the time and unbearably charming the rest of it. I want you to be Santa because you’re Ben, and I want someone I love in that role.”

Ben shut his eyes tight, swallowing down the anger and grief and gratitude that threatened to burst out of him. “All right,” he said. “I’ll think about it.”


	3. Chapter 3

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Oh heyyy! Look who's back in February with a very belated Christmas fic update! At this rate, you'll get the romantic conclusion sometime in July.
> 
> Trigger warning for this chapter: mention of mental health crisis and a suicide attempt

Ben scratched his chin under the fake white beard, already miserable. The beard itched, the fabric was cheap and scratchy, and the red velvet jacket threatened to rip under the strain of jamming his shoulders and arms into it. It had been tailored for Han, who was— _had been_ , Ben corrected himself—tall and muscular, but Ben had always been built on a different scale than most people, and he’d had very little to do for the last few months but work out.

He should have known promising to “think” about playing Santa would end with this. The Santa costume had been on his bed only a few hours after his fight with Leia, and she’d spent the next day making wistful, passive-aggressive comments about how much she’d loved watching Han talk to the little kids who visited Santa’s Workshop in droves.

Ben had bit his tongue, determined not to fight with her again. His mother was as tenacious as a bull terrier when she wanted something, and for whatever reason, she wanted this very badly. Eventually, it had been easier just to give in.

It had seemed easier at the time, anyway. Now that Ben was seated on an uncomfortable antique chair, mere minutes away from forced interaction with children, he wondered what he’d gotten himself into.

Poe Dameron was playing his helper elf tonight, which didn’t make things better. Amilyn Holdo’s boy toy was approximately Ben’s age and about a million times more attractive, and his shiny green short-shorts were making Ben uncomfortable. Poe also had an unsettling tendency to punctuate conversations with winks, and even the most banal of statements sounded salacious coming out of his mouth.

“You ready for some lap traffic?” Poe asked now. He winked. “I bet some of the moms will want to sit there, too.”

“That’s… disturbing,” Ben said. A stray whisker from the beard got caught in his mouth, and he puffed it out in irritation.

Poe shrugged. “Hey, there are a lot of cougars in this town who’d be into a hunk of man meat like you.” His gaze trailed over Ben. “I can give you pointers on landing the older ladies, if you want.”

“No, thank you.”

Blessedly, the sound of a bus pulling up outside interrupted the conversation. Ben rubbed his gloved hands together. He and Poe were situated in a tent on the front lawn, which was at least marginally warmer than outside, but it was still fucking cold, even in his Santa suit.

The tent was filled with wrapped presents, piles of fake snow, and all sorts of glittery, twee decorations. Ben hated it. It smelled like plastic and pine air fresheners, and with no view of the world outside, he had no way of telling how much time was passing. It was somewhere around 3pm, but the sun set early this time of year, which meant he wouldn't get much sunlight even if he did get a break from his Santa duties.

Poe did a dance next to Ben’s Santa throne that involved a lot of hip-wiggling. “Showtime,” he said, pointing finger guns at the entrance. Ben made a mental note to ask his mother to assign Poe to a different part of Santa’s Workshop as soon as possible.

The tent flap opened, courtesy of Kaydel, another too-cheerful elf who was stationed outside. “Come meet Santa!” she called to the unseen visitors.

Ben flinched as a flood of tiny children poured in, screaming and laughing. They made a beeline for him, and he braced himself to be mauled by the tiny monsters, but Poe thankfully stepped in. “Welcome to Santa’s Workshop!” he said, stepping between Ben and the mob. “If you form a neat line, you can sit on Santa’s lap one at a time.” He looked over his shoulder and winked at Ben. “Lucky them.”

Was Amilyn’s boy toy coming on to him? Ben didn't judge anyone's preferences, but he knew for a fact Amilyn didn't share, and Poe was definitely not his type.

That thought of Poe trying to seduce him was even more distressing than the cluster of wide-eyed, sticky goblins currently lining up to sit in his lap. The kids kept coming, a seemingly endless flow through the tent entrance, and then…

Then Rey Jackson stepped inside.

His heart seized up at the sight of her. She was dressed simply in jeans and another lumpy sweater—white this time—but she was easily the brightest thing in the tinsel-strewn room. She met his eyes and smiled tightly, and Ben’s stomach sank. Right. The last time he’d seen her, he’d been screaming at Leia. Rey probably thought he was a nutjob.

She wasn’t wrong, either.

“Isn’t this special?” Rey said, heading to the front of the line of kindergarteners. “You get to tell Santa what you want for Christmas.” There was something off about her expression, though, some tension that implied she wasn’t nearly as happy about this event as she should be.

Probably because he made her uncomfortable.

The tent flap moved again, and Ben saw Leia poke her head in before quickly darting back out of sight. Great. His mother was spying on him to see how he performed.

Ben swallowed his shame and discomfort and focused on the children. “Ho ho ho,” he said awkwardly. “Who’s going to be first to tell Santa what you want?”

Some of the kids looked downright scared of him, but one little girl’s hand shot in the air. “Me,” she announced, marching towards him. “I get to go first.”

Rey’s smile looked more genuine this time. She made eye contact with Ben, then shrugged as if to say, ‘what can you do?’

The little girl hopped up onto Ben’s knee as if assuming her rightful throne. He stared down at her, taken aback by the sheer confidence on her tiny face. “Uh…” He cleared his throat. “So, uh, what’s your name?”

“Hanna. And I want a pony for Christmas.”

“Oh.” Ben looked around desperately, wondering what the protocol was for responding to clearly irrational requests. Poe winked, which wasn’t helpful at all, and Rey just stood there looking amused, so he supposed he was on his own. He returned his focus to Hanna. “That’s an ambitious wish,” he said. “Have you been good this year?”

That was what Santa always asked, right? And Jesus, this was a dark practice, if he really thought about it. Santa was basically a fairy tale version of the panopticon, the all-seeing eye used to keep unruly prisoners in line. Don’t fuck up, kids— _Santa’s always watching._

Hanna nodded vehemently. “I’m always good. The best.”

He heard a choked sound from Rey and looked up in time to see the gorgeous teacher stifling a laugh. Apparently Hanna had an inflated opinion of her own behavior. Well, more power to her. Ben wasn’t sure he’d ever had that kind of confidence. “Keep being good,” he said in his best Santa voice, “and I’ll think about the pony.”

Hanna looked like she’d been betrayed. “But I’ve already _been_ good.”

Poe raised one eyebrow—how did he make that look so sexual?—and Ben had a feeling he’d just fucked up. “Goodness is an ongoing process,” he said, fumbling to recover. “So just… keep trying.” The sentiment hit way too close to home, so he rushed onwards. “And I really like ponies, but your parents get a say, too. And ponies need lots of space to run around so they can be happy. Ethical pet ownership is important. Anyway, be good.” He looked up at the line of kids, desperate for this awkward interaction to be over. “Next!”

He wasn’t sure how he made it through the line of kindergarteners. They were small and sticky, and they kept yanking his beard while asking the most inane questions.

“Do reindeer eat cookies?”

“Can I have a boat?”

“Please, Santa, can you turn me into a firetruck for Christmas?”

He answered as best he could. Reindeer ate whatever they were given. A boat wouldn’t be much use in land-locked Alderaan. Human beings couldn’t shapeshift into vehicles, no matter what Transformers said.

Ben knew he was cocking this up. If Poe’s winces weren’t enough of a hint, the look of pained hilarity on Rey’s face only confirmed it. He was the worst, most horrible Santa ever to peddle false promises to children.

The last child in line was a small, freckled boy with huge ears. Maybe it was the boy’s sad eyes that did it, or maybe it was a sense of big-ear solidarity, but Ben found himself making a real effort to charm this kid. “Ho ho ho!” he boomed, making the kid jump. “Merry almost Christmas! Come tell Santa what you want.”

The kid hopped up on his lap. His legs swung, and it reminded Ben of how his own legs used to dangle when sitting on his stool in the kitchen, watching his parents bicker. He swallowed a lump in his throat. “Well?” he asked. “Have you been good?”

The little boy’s shoulders slumped. “No,” he said softly.

Oh, God. Was Ben supposed to play disciplinarian? He couldn’t. “Why’s that?” he asked.

“I told my Daddy I hated him.” The boy’s eyes welled with tears. “And then he got mad and went away.”

Ben gaped at the boy, dumbfounded. What was he supposed to say to that?

Luckily, Rey sprang into action. She clapped her hands, grabbing the class’s attention. “Everyone, head outside to Miss Pava and Miss Organa for some cookies! I’ll be along in a moment.” The words sparked chaos, and within seconds, the tent was empty of everyone but Rey, Poe, Ben, and the miserable child currently weeping in his lap.

Rey knelt in front of Ben and the kid. “Hey,” she said, cupping the little boy’s cheeks. “We talked about this earlier, didn’t we? He isn’t mad at you. No parent can ever truly be mad at their child.” A haunting expression crossed her face, but it was gone so quickly, Ben wondered if he’d imagined it. Rey stroked her fingers through the boy’s hair. “He’s on a work trip, and he’ll be back soon.”

The boy snuffled and wiped the back of his hand over his snot-dripping nose. “Mommy said I was bad to say it.”

“She was frustrated.” Rey smiled softly. “We all get frustrated sometimes. That’s why we talk about our big feelings, right? Because we all have them, and it’s good to get them out.” Her eyes flicked up to Ben’s face, and her lips pulled in a tiny smile. “But she loves you very much,” she said, returning her attention to the little boy. “And your Daddy loves you, too.”

The child looked up at Ben as if searching for confirmation. “Uh, yes,” he said, scrambling for an answer. “I’m sure they love you. And even Santa has big feelings. Sometimes I say stupid sh—er, mean things, too. To Mrs. Claus. And the elves. Sometimes the reindeer.”

Poe snorted and turned away, and Rey looked torn between dismay and hilarity. Fuck, Ben was not equipped to provide therapy for a five-year-old.

“ _Anyway,_ ” he said, “they forgive me every time. I also apologize every time. Did you apologize to your Daddy?”

The little boy nodded. Some snot dripped from his nose onto Ben’s jacket, and he tried not to wince.

“Well, there you go,” he said. “Then you haven’t been bad. You’ve actually been very good. Admitting your mistakes is one of the hardest things a person can do." _And don't I know it,_ he thought. "I’m proud of you.”

The boy looked like Ben had given him the moon. “Really?” he asked breathlessly.

“Yes.” Ben smiled, although it was probably lost in this bushy monstrosity of a beard. His cheeks felt stiff—it wasn’t an expression he’d practiced much in the last five years. “Now what do you want for Christmas?”

“I want my Daddy to come home.”

Ben’s eyes burned. _Me, too,_ he wanted to say.

Some wishes were impossible, but this one wasn’t. “Well,” he said, “since you’ve been very good, I promise your Daddy will come home.”

The smile that overtook the little boy’s face was blinding. “Thank you, Santa!” He bounced up and down, wriggling with joy, mood restored with whiplash suddenness. “It’s the best Christmas present ever.”

Ben was about to lose it. He nodded, unable to speak past the lump in his throat. His vision grew wet and blurry.

Rey took one look at him and stood up. She reached a hand for the little boy. “Come on, Rian. Why don’t you go with this nice elf to get some cookies? I’m going to tell Santa what I want for Christmas.”

Rian sprinted towards Poe, who led the kid out of the tent. Then it was just Rey and Ben, staring at each other. “Are you going to sit on my lap?” Ben finally asked, needing to break the awkward silence somehow. He immediately winced, because that definitely wasn't any _less_ awkward.

Rey smiled and shook her head. “No, I just thought you needed a moment.”

Ben couldn’t keep the tears contained anymore. He started crying into his fake beard, and the feel of his tears and sweat mixing under that awful, scratchy thing was unbearable, so he ripped the beard down around his neck and took a deep breath. “Fuck,” he said, grinding the palms of his hands into his eyes. “What the fuck.”

Rey laid a hand on his shoulder. “Kids do that to you. They say the simplest things that cut you straight to the bone. It’s like the most brutal therapy.”

He shook his head. “I just…”

“You just what?” She was looking at him with so much compassion that it broke Ben. Words started tumbling out of him.

“That kid is better to his dad than I ever was,” he said. “I think I forgot how to apologize somewhere around age ten. And he’s going to see his father in, what, a day or two? And they’re going to have some beautiful reconciliation full of hugs and shit, and everything’s going to be okay, and I’m…” He bent over, bracing his elbows on his knees as he devolved into huge, wracking sobs.

“It’s okay.” Rey rubbed his back and shoulder. “Let it out.”

“I’m a mess,” he choked out. “And my dad… the last time I saw him in person, I screamed at him. And I’m trying to be better, but he’ll never see it. He’ll never know.”

Rey kept stroking him, and he had no idea what he’d done to deserve this angel’s compassion, but he soaked it in anyway, like a dying plant finally given a bit of water and light. “He knew,” she said, low and soft. “It’s probably weird for a stranger to know so much about you, but… Leia told me he knew you'd left your job. That you were getting help.”

At that, he sat upright, wiping away his tears. “She told you?” he asked, feeling a sting of betrayal. “Where I was just now?”

Rey looked uncomfortable. “Only a little. I know you went to a… health clinic. To get better.”

He laughed, a broken crack of sound. “Is that what she called it? Not a looney bin?”

“Ben.” She stepped between his legs and gripped his cheeks, forcing him to look at her. “I don’t know the details of what you went through, but there’s no shame in seeking help. And mental health clinics aren’t looney bins.”

“They are if you went on a screaming tirade through your office, punched your boss, then tried to jump off the roof.”

The words burst out of him before he could think better of them. He was immediately horrified. This was a complete stranger, just some pretty girl who had now seen him break down twice. She was staring at him with so much shock that he knew Leia hadn't shared this part of his struggles. “Shit, I’m sorry,” he said. “I’m so sorry.”

He needed to get out of here. He needed to burn this fucking Santa suit and then drown himself in a bottle of whiskey. He tried to stand, but Rey gripped his shoulders and shoved him back down with a surprising amount of strength. “Hey,” she said. “Don’t run away. I’m sorry you went through that. And I’m really glad you got help.”

“Why are you even here?” he asked desperately. “Who are you? You’re no one. Some teacher in a small town with too much fucking compassion, wasting your time on a miserable asshole.”

Rey looked like she’d been slapped. “I’m no one?”

Shit, he was doing it again. Lashing out. Hurting anyone who seemed to give a damn about him. “Not like that,” he rushed to clarify. “God, I put that so badly. No, just… you don’t know me. We’ve met twice, and both times I made a complete ass out of myself. Why are you here?” His voice cracked on the last question.

Rey sighed. “I'm here because... well, maybe I know something about pain. And hating the holidays. And... missing things you can't have." Her lips tilted sadly. "Sometimes Christmas feels like an exercise in sadism."

He sniffled. "It does, doesn't it?" He looked up at her, taking in her melancholy hazel eyes and the way she held herself stiffly, as if afraid he would reject her kindness again. He wouldn't. And maybe... maybe he could try to share some kindness of his own with her, too. He cleared his throat. "Do you, uh, do you want to talk about it?"

Her smile bloomed into something real and genuine. "You know what? I do. Let’s go grab some cocoa and walk around the neighborhood. You could use a break from Santa, anyway.”

“What about the kids?” Surely she couldn’t just walk off without them.

She waved a hand. “They’re with the student teacher. Come on, just a quick walk.”

“Yeah, okay." He shook his head. "Fuck, I’m so bad at this Santa stuff.”

"I've certainly seen more... traditional Santas," she allowed, then grinned at him. “But you’re doing better than you think.”

The tent flap opened, and Poe popped back in. “Ready for the next batch of kids?” he asked, way too cheerfully.

Ben growled under his breath, but before he could say anything, Rey jumped in. She planted herself between him and Poe, shielding him with her slight frame. “Santa’s on break,” she said. “He’ll be back in thirty minutes.”

“What?” Poe shifted, trying to look around Rey, but she kept moving with him, blocking his line of sight. “He’s right there," Poe said. "I can see his legs.”

“And he’s going on break right now.” Rey’s firm tone demanded obedience, and Ben abruptly understood how she could wrangle an entire classroom of five-year-old hooligans. “Go do your elf thing and entertain the kids until we're back.”

“My _elf_ thing?”

“You know, dancing, singing, telling Christmas stories? What kind of elf are you, anyway?”

Ben huffed. It was absurd to find anything humorous in the situation, but Rey was something special.

“All right, fine.” Poe backed away. “I’ll go work my elf magic.” Before he slipped outside, he called over his shoulder. “Thirty minutes!”

When he was gone, Rey turned back to Ben, looking disturbed. “Does he wink like that at everyone?”

Ben cracked an honest-to-goodness laugh. “Yeah,” he said. “He does.”

Rey shook her head. “Weird. Anyway, you ready to sneak out the back?” She held out her hand.

Ben stared at it, still unable to believe she wanted to spend time with him. That she wanted to _help_ him.

He slid his white glove off, then reached out and took her hand. Her palm was cold from the chilly air, and a spark seemed to shoot through him at the contact. “Yeah,” he said. “Let's go."


End file.
